Liv'n Dead Girl
by Mucc4244
Summary: Olivia Moore, just your average medical examiner. or not? with her life turned upside down by a scratch from a zombie how will Ms. Liv Moore learn to cope with the fact she is no longer considered living?
1. Chapter 1

Six months, I've been a zombie for six months, and in that time what have I done with my life? Broken off my engagement to the man of my dreams, quit my job a the hospital, made my family worry so much they think I have PTSD or have gone crazy. What's the point?

It's not like there is going to be a cure anytime soon, nobody but me knows that zombies even exist in the real world. Besides, even if I did tell someone what would happen? They would probably hunt me down to try and stop me from causing the apocalypse. So I ask again what is the point?

I could easily end this unnatural existence of mine right now, I work in a morgue and it wouldn't be hard to find something that could pierce my skull.

But what is the point in that also? What if I was turned into the living dead for a reason? What if I was ment for greater thing than eating murder victim brains with spicy chicken ramen?

I don't know, huh, there it is again. I don't know, it feels like that is the theme of my life right now… I don't know if I could infect my loved ones with this living hell I go through. I don't know if one day I'll just turn into one of those mindless shambling corpses that are shown in the movies and on tv.

Its theses I don't knows that keep me up at night, there also what keep me going. The hope that I have a role to play in the future, hope that one day I may be able to be with the man I love. But for now I just...go on, pondering my existence and eating brains in crappy instant noodles… life goes on.

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It's probably wrong that every time I see a dead body I think, "what the hell am I doing with my life?" but right now I really don't care what is right or wrong. All I can think about is eating, you may think it's weird that I am hungry after seeing a dead body. The thing is though, I'm a zombie, for me this is a five star brain meal.

You're probably asking hey Liv what is it like to be a zombie? Well I'll tell you, it's horrible!

Before I became a member of the undead I had my life planned out, I had a topnotch residency at the local hospital, I was engaged to the man of my dreams, and would one day have a gaggle of little feet pattering around my house.

Now I just kind-of coast, I quit my job at the hospital and got a job at the morgue to have better access to fresh brains. I broke up with my fiancé, Major because I was afraid that I may infect him with zombieism, and I seriously doubt that I can have children at the moment, I'm not technically alive currently.

This is all not mentioning the smaller things, I can't taste anything unless it has at least six chilli pepers next to it, I have to eat brains to keep myself from turning into a mindless monster bent on the destruction of the human race, and for some unknown reason cannot sleep, like at all.

But this is my life from now on, lay in my bed pretending to sleep, get up, go to work, open up some poor dead person's skull eat their brains, go home, and repeat. Forever. Man who would have thought that this is how my life would have gone. Well better get to work.

"You have to see this anterior rectus sheath contusion. It looks exactly like the Virgin Mary holding a Les Paul." comments my boss, one Ravi Chakrabarti, who oddly enough is eating what looks like a bowl of froot loops over the corpse a young woman.

"Do you think it would be wrong of me to instagram this?"

"Yes, _yes_ , it would."

"In the five months you've been here, what's the weirdest thing you have seen while working here?" he asks chugging down the last of the milk in his bowl and setting the piece of china down on the examination table, with the body on it…

"You drinking cereal milk over a corpse." I deadpan.

"Ya know, that what I like about you always keeping it under fifteen syllables. It gives us a good rhythm."

Putting on my gloves I turn to the dark skinned british man shooting him a tired glare.

"Working with my last resident was like prepping for the Newlywed Game. 'What's your favorite color?' 'How old were you when you first touched a boob?' It's nice to know I can dissect a Jane Doe's spleen without feeling obligated to list my top desert island albums." he continued unfazed by my glare.

"She's a Jane Doe?" I ask, examining the body with more interest. Jane Doe means _unknown_ , maybe I could have alittle fun with this one, try and find out just who I am eating.

"Yep, she was found in the back of a garbage truck. Driver isn't sure where he picked her up. No ID. No matching prints so far. The garbage truck was using a crusher which complicates our cause of death." he states dryly as though it's just another day in the office, well it is but _still_.

There a ping of a text and suddenly Ravi is up, gloves off, and is putting on his coat, "well duty calls," he states

"Suicide, _or is it murder_?" he asks dramatically, a funny almost constipated look adorns his face.

"Well either way sew her back up, bag and box her." he says gesturing to the body of the Jane Doe.

Well here comes both my favorite and least favorite part. I pick up the tool I love most in the morgue, the blue bone saw I use to get my meals, without it we would be one hungry zombie closer to the end of the world.

Quickly opening up the girls skull I remove my prize, a half a pound of grade A greymatter! Moving over to the small kitchenette situated in the corner of the morgue I start on my lunch. One part spicy chicken ramen, one part Jane Doe brain, and for that final zombie touch, a splash of 666 hellfire hot sauce. Give it a shake and there you have it! Hellfire ramen and mystery brains! My favorite, not!

Taking my meal into the small break room I sit down and turn on the tv we have in the corner of the room. The first thing that come on, dawn of the dead. Sometimes I feel the universe is fucking with me.

"I have so many questions!" exclaimed Ravi excitedly "First, why the hot sauce? Is that a zombie thing?"

Oh shit I am so fucked! That's it I know the universe is fucking with me now!

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	2. Chapter 2

I am sooo fucked. I have spent the last six fucking months trying to prevent anyone from finding out I'm a zombie only for my boss to walk in on me gorging myself on Jane Doe brains.

"Um, Liv? Would I be able to do some tests?" asked Ravi, looking like a little kid trying to talk his parents into buying him a new toy.

"Uh, sure?"

Well, that caught me off guard, I was not expecting that reaction out of this. Angry trying to kill me yeah, but begging like a little kid, no.

"Alright! Now if you would please hop up on the examination table and roll up your sleeve!" says Ravi excitedly. He almost looks like an overexcited puppy, this is so strange.

"Now if I may ask, were you turned into a zombie at the lake Washington massacre?" he asks, somehow instantly producing a stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and some vacuum vials for blood samples.

"Yeah, how did you know?" I ask slightly afraid of his answer. Like how the hell do you just guess that shit! You don't!

"Everyone knows the party line for the Lake Washington massacre. Drugged up college kids. Violent fight breaks out. The only survivors were the ones smart enough to jump ship before the fire broke out. But I was on duty that night."

Ok, how the hell does that explain anything, for all I know you could have been the one to fucking start the zombie plague with that vague of an answer!

"Open," he says gesturing to my mouth. I comply hoping that he'll continue explaining.

"Many of the victims were missing significant brain mass. My colleagues attributed this to the fish in the lake. Because we all know rainbow trout go right for the cranium." He states the sarcasm dripping from his voice while explaining the shortcomings of his colleagues. He may be crazy but I can't say he isn't observant, most M.E.s would just pass that off. Hell if I wasn't a zombie I would probably pass that off also.

"'Fish.' It was right there in front of them. A virus. Like Rabies. But not. Something worse."

Yep, he is definitely crazy, but damn. He managed to piece this together with only a small amount of evidence, I'm almost afraid of what he could do with all the facts.

"Sorry. I'm a little confused - am I fired or am I getting a physical?" I ask at him taking my heart rate like I not some undead freak. Who in their right mind would get that close to a zombie's mouth in the first place!

"Fired? I have a billion questions for you. I'm contemplating asking you to move in."

What. The. Fuck. How can he be so calm. You find out that the girl you've been working with is a brain eating zombie and you act as if it is just an interesting medical condition! Who the fuck is this guy!

"...How long have you suspected?" I ask trying to get a reading on if this guy had anything to do with the whole zombie situation.

"Since Raoul Cortez."

Who the fuck is that? A buddy of his or something?

"Gang-banger gunshot victim? You finished his autopsy for me. The detective on his case needed me to open him back up. Guess what he was missing?"

"A strong male role model?" I ask, so not a buddy of his. Oh, wait I remember. The guy I made into a brain and cheese burrito. Dude gave me indigestion for like a week.

"And a half pound of brain. After I confirmed that you were a survivor of the massacre, I started opening up the other bodies you finished off for me."

Well shit, that explains how he put two and two together. Damn, I really don't want to try and hide anything from this guy, he's good.

"Resting heart rate: ten beats per minute. Amazing!" he states, well shit, I do still have a heart rate. A fucking slow one but still. Man, this brain swears a lot...

"How have you been so normal to me?"

Hell, most people would freak the fuck out over something like this. Not this guy apparently. I'm pretty sure he has balls of fucking diamond!

"What am I supposed to be?"

Well, I give him props, at the moment this is the most fearless person on the planet. He is literally staring down something that could end human civilization and ask if he should be afraid. Fuck.

"Grossed out? Scared-shitless? Leading torch-wielding villagers to my apartment? I've been terrified of someone finding out for months and you're acting like it's the measles I've contracted."

"So, no one else knows? You haven't told your family or-"

Well duh, how well would that go over? Hey, mom, Evan, looks like I've become a zombie can I crash here for a bit? Yeah, that would go over _real_ well.

"God no." I say. I hope he realizes he isn't going to find a vein, my skin might be stark white but the veins aren't going to appear any better.

"That must be tough. Dealing with this on your own."

No shit, but hey if you are offering to help I'll go with it. You are a diamond balled super detective after all.

"Did you know I used to work for the CDC? I got canned. Wanna know why?"

CDC well that explains a lot. Like how he could just suddenly figure this shit out.

"Because you believe in zombies?" I ask, I really couldn't help myself, I just had to.

"They got tired of my warnings. Nuclear war and asteroid strikes are bad, but the most urgent issue facing humanity? Man-made plague. Biological warfare. That night on the lake, people were doing a new designer drug called 'Utopium.' Did you partake?"

Well, that certainly sounds...well really smart. Wait did he say Utopium, that that shit the guy who scratched me tried to sell me. Well fuck.

"No... The irony is, I never go to parties with regular drugs let alone fancy new designer drugs." I said. Me and drugs really don't mix well. I tried weed in high school, just made me sick and paranoid, it fucking sucked.

Wait could the Utopium have a hand in this, the guy who turned me was selling it and he was one of the first to turn on the boat. Shit, I'm going to have to tell Ravi about the boat party. I really don't want to relive that night...

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

I knew that party was going to blow...But a couple of the other residents dragged me to it then ditched me.

I was walking around a party full of the type of people that I tried to avoid during college, the frat-boys, partiers, and druggies. Trying, and failing, to find a friendly face in the crowd, so I went up to the open bar to get a drink. If I was stuck here, I might as well enjoy myself.

It was about halfway through the party when a guy finally approached me

"Hey, you look kinda outta' place hangin' 'round with this crowd." he said.

Now normally I would just ignore guys like him, swave, overconfident, and vain. But of course I had more than a few drinks in me. It was a party with free beer after all.

"Yeah, don't I know it?" I replied, I was hoping for at least one person to talk to, and hey I was pretty drunk.

"Hey why don't I buy ya' a drink, ya' look kind'a lonely!" he said, in his hand was what looked like a whisky sour.

While the beer may be free, the liquor most certainly was not, it was like five bucks a drink! Nodding in agreement I followed the guy to the bar, which was surprisingly empty.

"So what'll ya' have?" he asked

"I'll take a long island iced tea please." I said, hey they may be a basic bitch drink but hey, they're good!

Getting my drink, I follow the guy to one of the many tables strewn about the deck of the rather excessively large yacht we are on.

"So?" he asks "what's a girl like you doin' at a party like this? No offence but you don't look like the kind'a person to go to these."

"Well, I was kind of dragged here, a couple of my coworkers dragged me out and then ditched me." I said, I really don't know why I told him that. For all I know he could be some sort of date-rapist.

"Man, sorry to hear that, drag you to a party full'a people ya' don't know an' then ditch you. That's just mean."

Man you're telling me, they could have at least waited until I was drunk to ditch me, I probably wouldn't remember it then.

"Well, I'm not the most...well liked person in at work. I tend to be a bit of an overachiever."

Why I am telling this to a man I just met at a party? I don't know. But hey, I blame the alcohol.

"Sometimes, overachievers, are the ones who party the hardest." he said.

Yeah, that may be true for others, I on the other hand am rather boring at parties.

"While I may like to drink, I don't party all that hard."

"Why don't we try an' change that" he smirked, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket he pulled out a small plastic vial.

"This here's Utopium, it's like someone took the world, and turned on Technicolor. Everything becomes lit up, and it feels like you're floatin' on air, like nothin' can touch ya'."

Ah, he's a drug dealer. Well, that explains the wad of cash he had, he's probably making a killing here.

"Sorry, I and drugs don't really mix." I said, I do not want a repeat of my junior year, that was not fun.

"That's ok. Well," he dismissed, standing up. "I'm gona'..."

That, was when the screams started. It sounded like someone was being eaten alive. Looking back, they probably were.

"What the fuck?" he questioned, turning to me, a spark of fear in his eyes. "We need to leave, now!"

I was not about to question him, that scream scared me, a lot. Quickly leaving my seat I followed the man to the makeshift dock they had set up for all smaller boats used to get to the yacht.

It was like hell had descended on to the party, people were ripping other apart, some of them were even eating others. The whole thing was terrifying to say the least.

Me and the guy where about half way to the dock thing when he stopped and turned away from me.

"Run!" he screamed

I for some unknown reason stopped, and instead of listening to him, I turned and reached out. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the fact that for some reason this random drug dealer seemed really familiar, I don't know, but it was a mistake. He turned around, his once blue eyes now a bright almost neon red, and streaks of white running through his dirty blond hair.

His hand shot out, and grabbed my outstretched arm, if on reflex I pulled back. This was a bad idea, while I managed to free my arm his nails also dug into the flesh on my lower arm, three long scratches cut into my skin changing my life forever.

My inertia from yanking my arm free also sent me tumbling...right off the side of boat, and into the water. I think I may have hit my head also, as everything went dark and I fell unconscious.

The next thing I know, I wake up in a yellow body bag on the shore, my lungs full of water and no heartbeat.

The poor EMT who bagged me up was devastated that he bagged a 'living' girl, he was of no use. I used the fact that I was a doctor to get out of being checked out, and promptly left, I was still shell shocked about the whole thing.

It was on my way to the bus stop that I found out about the whole craving brains thing, there was a body that had washed up on the shore. Another zombie had probably cracked open their skull and eaten the frontal lobe, but there was some temporal lobe left.

It was an all-consuming urge, to run up to the body and pick out the little scraps of grey matter left in the poor person's skull. It was horrible, I just reached in with my bare hands and pulled out a chunk, and shoved in my mouth like those people who haven't eaten in weeks. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever done. I then used the lake water to clean myself off and continued to the bus stop, like I just didn't eat the brain of some dead person.

When I finally got home, I saw the streaks of white in my hair and realized that whatever affected the people on the boat also affected me. I was terrified, I might turn into one of those crazy hunger driven monsters that tore one another apart, that I might hurt those that I cared about. I turned those that I loved most away, and became cold, detached, I just didn't care about life anymore.

Three days later, I found that if I didn't 'eat', I would slowly become dumber, more aggressive. That's when I quit my job at the hospital, and applied here as a ME. It was the only place besides a funeral home that I would have a steady supply of dead bodies to sustain myself. To keep from becoming one of the monsters.

* * *

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